Hunter Journal: Page 16

This day was just like most any other. I went swimming in a swamp, had to prove myself worthy of wearing a silly hat, and met with a peep of chickens.

It started out with me chasing down goblin sappers in the Midgewater Marsh (see image above). These brilliant creatures run around with a pot full of flaming hot oil (or it might be discarded goblin life insurance forms) held up over their head. In a swamp. Filled with water. Assuming they would charge at me and toss their fire pot upon my fine person, I tried to find a way to keep my distance. Upon the first arrow I fired, they freaked out and dropped the burning bowl on their own feet. Idiots. Not only did the first guy do this, but every one after as well. I suspect the lifespan of a goblin sapper is not very long. Further sapper training might be in order.

Later that day I found myself in the Old Forest trying to prove to some amazing “I don’t think you have it in you” hunter that I could track down a nasty wolf with really sharp fangs and dispatch it without getting the beat down. OK, perhaps there was one beat down forthcoming, but dispatch the wolf I did and thus earned one incredible hat.

I decided to head back to Bree with my new hat safely stored behind a tree stump when I noticed some strange noises. Sounds like scratching and pecking. I suddenly realized that I was being followed. They followed me all the way back to Bree so I stopped near the fountain outside of the Prancing Pony to ask them what was going on. They beckoned me to get closer, perhaps I should even lie on the ground – chicken level and all that. What did they have to say? Nothing, but it took me weeks to get all the chicken poop out of my cloak.